


Space Invader

by Askell



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gifts, Humor, Misunderstandings, Other, Star Trek Secret Santa, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askell/pseuds/Askell
Summary: Some dared to sit in Jim's seat. Which means they also forced Bones to relocate. Now, the pointy-eared invader will have to face the consequences of having provoked the legendary combined passive-aggressiveness of an Iowan and the pettiness of a Georgian.Through a series of cleverly-insulting gifts, they however realize that they may have made a mistake...





	Space Invader

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TooNerdyToHandle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooNerdyToHandle/gifts).



> This is my secret santa present for TooNerdyToHandle!!! I hope you'll like it~

It was a day, in apparence, nondivergent from the Starfleet Academy’s usual, boring routine. Students of all ages rushing to class looking like death was not merciful enough to alleviate their suffering, that hot-dog truck which was never twice handled by the same individual but always by a redhead, the Sacred Coffee Fountain of Revival. For half the price and fifteen minutes of walk compared to everywhere else, you could get one can of the Holy Beverage.

Truth was, caffeine was legally restricted but as long as the headboard didn’t discover that the Med students had rigged it, everybody could keep surviving finals. At any hour of the day, Stoned P’ete would wave at you in the distance, their ecstatic smile bidding you a good whatever. Engineering students were actually responsible for that modification of the school’s hologramme. 

The riot following the decision of the board to replace it with the AI’s precedent face, Stick-In-No-Sunshine Peter, eventually led to keeping it intact. Thirty years after, the outdated bluish silhouette with it’s only two facial animations kept welcoming aspiring spacefarers. 

Hacking his way into being his new -and only- friend’s roommate had placed Jim in a very delicate and adventurous situation. Being the only starry-eyed yellow-clad fool in Med student territory proved to be as challenging as it was rewarding. After all, had they not known him from the common room, they would have anyway in ER. His exceptional propension to need professional care was probably why the administration never corrected “their mistake”. 

Thus stuck with the blonde idiot, Leonard had quickly learned that being an adult was pointless around Jim, as he himself would probably never be one and respected none. Not that he didn’t try. The kid was the dumbest genius he’d ever met. He could replicate to perfection almost anything he’d ever seen even just once, including food, but insisted on feeding only on Japanese mushroom candies. Because they were “kawaii -that’s Japanese for _cute_ Bones, yes I know you know but you don’t speak it as well as I do so…”. 

Their “shut up”/”I love you man” ratio was one of the highest, all dorms included.

After a bumpy first year of fighting over which surfaces could occasionally serve to hold dirty (cartoon-themed) socks, and who was going to fix the TV after it had been used as a beer pong table, they were now official. The stag parties had been magnificent, even for the M.D. (Med Dorm). With all their friends reunited, they had finally said yes. They had officially become Best Friends Forever.

The thing with all of those to-be health professionals around him, Jim always impressed his command classmates by his acute knowledge of gossip. Which was why the Event surprised both roommates. It was as unexpected as it represented the collapse of an institution. 

Bones and Jim always sat on the left row, three seats before the wall, the doctor on the right and his left-handed-on-Mondays friend on the left, so that both would avoid bumping into one another and could also enjoy being just under the AC. It was their _thing_.   
And now a stranger sat in Jim’s place, disturbing the cosmic balance of their arrangement. Frozen as the bell rung, both contemplated how their habit to come exactly one minute before the start of class now put them in a very delicate situation. 

Separated, Jim was forced to write with his right hand on a Monday and Bones went into hypothermia under the window. Needless to say, the _prick_ who dared to defy them was going to pay. 

“As always, Mr. Kirk, no,” announced the bored secretary without rising his eyes.

“You actually learned to recognize my step pattern, Jerome, I must say I’m quite impressed.”

“You entered the room yelling your own name.”

“Yeah but other people do that too, it’s called a meme old man.”

“My answer is still no.”

“Sir,” intervened Leonard.

Jerome had to look at the doctor this time. Model student, certified surgeon, TA in three classes, he never complained or made requests. This had to be import-

“Someone has stolen my seat, can you expel him or something?” cut Kirk, and Jerome’s hopes for a legitimate request vanished.

Both students were escorted to the door by dead, exhausted eyes. The secretary didn’t even have to insist. Kirk’s last journey to the brig simulator seemed to have had its effect. Or so he thought. He should have know, should have recognized that a smile from their local maverick was something to fear.

He might have been a dimwit, Jim was also a prodigy.

The (admittedly handsome, but that was irrelevant) daring Vulcan had just exposed himself to the combined passive-aggressiveness of an Iowan and the pettiness of a Georgian. If Spock misunderstood why people were looking at him with mixed reverence and fear, he heard about two students singlehandedly responsible for filling the Olympic pool with polymer beads to the brim in one night, seven months after their arrival. Supposedly, the replacement of the green tea setting with a Brussels sprouts favor on the entirety of the school’s replicators was also their doing.

Later that day, he sent an objective summary of his day to his mother. Her request to keep her informed was one he had every intention of achieving. The weather had been harsh on him, in spite of his fellow students describing it was pleasantly warm for that time of the year. His meal had been satisfactory, if only for the fact that no one bothered to invade his table, even if the cafeteria was at its maximum capacity. His high vantage point in most classes allowed him to follow them to perfection.  
He had not made significant progress on his assignment to find “at least one friend this year”, but did not inform his mother. She was, after all, human, and he understood that only progress would made her experience pleasant feelings.

To his father, he sent one picture of himself almost smiling in front of the Academy. Spock felt unreasonably seditious while doing so.

-o- 

After deliberation in the emergency war council they held in Jim’s pillow fort, both roommates agreed that simply retaking the seat was too easy. Vengeance required finesse, a lesson taught rather than a simple ignorance of the facts. They would come early the next Monday, sit one row behind their usual placement, and dispose the package on the perpetrator's hijacked desk.

Keeping their faces straight was difficult (“especially for me”, “shut up, Jim”), and their eyes off the packaged offense harder. They had spent the whole weekend looking for it, and paid probably more than necessary (but never as much as the pool prank had cost them). Yet, it was worth it. No larger than a padd, and definitely bulkier, the small box was decorated with a bright orange ribbon. Who even liked orange? Ugh, what an ugly color, both agreed.

The official color of insult, as of now.

Purposefully ignoring the Vulcan teacher, they pretended not to even notice him asking them if they knew why a present sat on his ( _the audacity_ ) desk. Their newfound rival was not even a student, oh no. He was too cool for that, apparently. In the cherry red sea of future Fleeters, he was the only spot of the shame-ladybug. Bones never agreed to that metaphor.

One hand on Jim’s jitering thigh to keep him from fidgeting too much, the doctor focused on his friend’s attempt at staying put to avoid gloating too obviously. The offender had become slightly greener, and blushing was one of the symptoms of _guilt_. It was difficult to read his expression, he was either pleasantly surprised and liked the insulting ribbon, or more plausibly, understood his grave mistake.

Class started as the Vulcan was starting to examine the replica in his delicate (traitor) hands. He obviously recognized the label, the old-fashioned 2D screen, the blocky figures. Who didn’t know Space Invaders? His complete disinterest in the 21st century PSP for the rest of the lecture was proof enough that their message of hatred had been understood.

Allowing one single grin of victory to break his usual scowl, Leonard then turned back to his friend. Jim had made great progress during the last year, which had allowed him not to get kicked from the Academy as he had been from countless schools before. He simply needed a hand on his knee or forearm when his mind started to wander. When it was not enough, Bones knew what toys to give him to help him come back to reality. At last resort, he also carried the appropriate medicine in his bag.   
Never once again after the first day had had Jim to walk out of class because he couldn’t bear to stay put a second longer. However, he could never keep his friend from bolting as soon as he was allowed to. 

“Pardon my intrusion,” hailed him a deep voice as he reassembled his things. “May I inquire as to why your acquaintance sat in a science track class while he himself harbored the command insignia?”

For a split second, Bones considered to ignore him and walk away but a) his mama hadn’t raised a scoundrel as her son, and b) the whole point of the plan was not to get caught.

“If you haven’t heard of Jim Kirk by now, you will in the upcoming days. He’s intending on completing in three years instead of four. But he’s also here because he’s a massive nerd, the kid isn’t actually even registered,” he instead replied honestly.

The other man’s pleasant features shifted perhaps a millimeter, indicating what the doctor had learned to recognize as wonder on his interplanetary exchange colleagues. Jim often tended to have that kind of effect on people.

“You referred to him as ‘a kid’, must I understand he is not of legal age?”

Oh sweet Mary mother of Jesus in Space, another suitor for the Heartbreaker. Not exactly his fault books looked sexier than most humanoids in those baby blue eyes, but many people wished they were made of words after meeting him.

“Don’t worry man, he’s very legally of age, but I doubt you’d manage to even get a chance. Now I gotta go before he gets lost once again.”

The ghosts of Eleonora and David McCoy were probably throwing lightning at their son as he left without bidding the invader goodbye. They were still alive, but they’d probably developed psionic powers just for the occasion. Telling himself that the pettiness of the means justifies the end, Leonard tried to act as if he couldn’t almost hear his first and second names being shouted angrily while he looked for his friend. 

-o-

Had Spock felt like a rebellious figure, in many ways but fashion akin to a 20th-century _punk_ , he would have told his mother about what his human friends called a ‘secret admirer’. Or rather, he would have told her that he welcomed the thoughtfulness and research put into each and every of the items he was now accustomed to find on his desk, every Monday morning.

The videogame had not been to his taste, but he had learned that it represented an iconic figure of Earth Western culture. While Vulcan did not have such a geographic organization, no one could deny that there were, indeed, various cultures on the planet, not unlike Earth. Himself came from the Shikharian province, had been raised partially in the Pure Surakian legacy and partially in Earth Western culture. Spock, more than many, understood the importance of knowing the meaning of symbols.

The following week, a pile of books welcomed him, identified by that aesthetically pleasing orange silk thread. He knew there was a standard word for that particular piece of fabric, but he ignored it. Clearly, a fault on his part. The volumes were varied in theme: a treaty on interplanetary pandemics, another one about the risks of invasive species in terraforming, and finally a copy of an old-fashioned _movie_ titled ‘Alien’.

The books had proved pleasantly informative about subjects on which he lacked expertise. Spock intended to specialize in pure mathematics and astrophysics, but an insight on life sciences could never prove to be a waste of time. The _movie_ , however, was not an agreeable experience. It had left him with a sense of dread and troubled his meditation. To lull himself back to a more relaxed state of mind, Spock had had to indulge in matcha ice cream, as recommended by one of his fellow professors. 

He did not understand the misuse of Old English to describe his person as ‘spooketh’. 

Though illogically disappointed at his tactics to win the sympathies of a certain Leonard McCoy and his (boy?)friend James T. Kirk, Spock understood that he may have overdone his attempts. Balance was yet a parameter he had to calibrate when it came to socialization. Humans, he had found, took offense on the most unexpected subject. The exact nature of the two men’s relationship was also to further determine, as a close proximity as theirs could explain their reluctance to integrate Spock in their social group.

The third week had found a pair of socks on his desk, the pattern of which represented, as his research informed him, an outdated representation of aliens. The cultural ramifications of this symbol were quite fascinating. With the weather getting colder, damper and rainier, this new -if too gaudy- addition to his wardrobe was welcome. 

On the fourth Monday, he found the unthinkable hybrid of a fork and a spoon resting innocently in her orange bow. The logic of the utensil overcame the shameful cultural meaning it carried, and Spock ignored the horrified looks he got at the cafeteria that day.

It was also the week when he got the occasion to get to know Mr. Kirk more closely.

-o-

Bones was sick. Which made him grumpier than ever, and his idioms borderline ridiculous. Seeing Jim in the doorway, assessing the implications of feigning to be sick as well, he had been barked out. Apparently he looked like ‘a hound shitting live cats’. His Southern charms were on point, as ever.

He loved science as much as the next Med student (if not more), but sitting there without his best friend was different. Jim knew how much he rested on him to cope with his issues, but he also was a grown up man whose mom had raised well. They were the same, she and him, unable to sit and eyes in the future. Thinking about her techniques helped him focus enough to successfully take notes. He noted on his wrist to call her later.   
“By groups of two, discuss the questions on your padds. In fifteen minutes we’ll discuss your answers,” announced the professor, her cheerful voice bouncing on the walls. 

When Spock immediately turned to him, Jim knew there was no escaping this. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the Vulcan was one of a kind. Of the hundreds of students present in the amphitheater, he probably was the only one smart enough to be a match for him. They kept arguing longer than any other group, ping-pongging retorts back and forth with challenging smirks. 

After the professor snapped and told them to stop deliberating on the ethics of interspecies transplants on semi-sentient lifeforms in her Computer Science class, the padd addresses Jim wasn’t even aware they had exchanged kept the debate alive. It was well into the night, after having cared to Bones’ needs, that Jim realized _he had accidentally become friends with the enemy._

“Bones…” he called quietly, almost sure that the slow breaths he heard didn’t mean his friend had found sleep yet. 

“What is it Jim?” came the answer a few seconds later, gentler than he expected.

“Can I sleep with you?”

“What have you done this time? You always want to sleep with me when you feel guilty.”

“Can’t I just sleep casually with my best friend?”

“We’re not that close yet, Jimmy.”

“A man can dream,” grinned Jim, sure that the doctor would heard it without needing to see it. “But seriously you said it wasn’t contagious and I need a hug.”

The loud grunt he heard was followed by ruffled blankets, and he knew he had won. Hadn’t he exploded his tibia on a chair, it would have been a smooth transition. When he felt comfortable enough, having stolen three thirds of said blanket and been kicked in the shin for it, he started to drift off.

“Is it because I’m sick?” asked Leonard, a few moments later.

“Nah, it’s because Spock is a nice dude and I feel bad.”

“Tell me about it…”  
“However, I am nothing but a man with a plan.”

“You know what they say, it’s not because the peaches attract wasps that they’re ready to be pruned, Jim…”

“I have no idea what that means, but hey listen…”

-o-

Dear mother,

A most peculiar event happened, and since you have requested a more detailed summary of my days I shall inform you of it.

As you know, it has been 37 days since my enrollment, and during this interval I have received five packages which, though lacking any proper identification or giver, were destined to me, as I have been informed. My initial reaction was, of course, to report them to lost items. However, an acquaintance of mine better-versed in Human friendship and mating rituals signaled that both could be likely reasons of those gifts to my person. Lacking the proper information to decide which better course of action to undertake, I thus waited.

This morning at 08:34:06, a letter accompanied the package, as well as two of my classmates. I recognized various indicators of embarrassment on their persons, though I did not understand why the youngest received an elbow in the ribs. Their explanation was simple, but lacked any sort of rationality. 

Authors of the gifts, they had originally meant to chase me away by making them insulting to my person and origins. Though, further development of our relationship inclined them to reconsider. Now in possession of a handmade scarf of a distinctly aesthetic orange tint, I am invited to lunch. In regards to your explanations concerning apologies, I am inclined to believe they are, indeed, forgiven as no harm was done and no offense taken.

Reassure yourself, mother; I have made friends.

Spock


End file.
